I think I can start every blog entry with “Where do I start?” I swear I am overwhelmed  my the newness of this experience everytime I step outside of my house. I will start with my trip to the airport. Since I received my flight information from the team, I assumed my flight was out of Washington, D.C. and I didn’t even bother looking up the airport until the morning of my flight.  It turns out that Dulles Airport is in Washington, Virginia, not D.C.  So after coming to this realization,  Clint, Jonathan, and I woke up around 6:30 am on Thursday, January 31^st with snow and ice on the roads in Jacksonville; it was a small struggle to get to the main highway.  After arriving at the airport, we  walked around, found my gate and checked my bag. We still had a few hours until my flight so we looked up a local “mall” 30 minutes away that had approximately 5 stores, 3 of which were closed for construction. When we got back to the airport, we quickly go out of the car and said our goodbyes. My stomach instantly dropped as my roommates drove away, leaving me on my own for the first time in my life.

I have only flown one other time (to Atlantic city for Wayne’s bachelor party), but the whole process was not completely foreign. I made my way to security and they asked very politely for me to take off the baggy sweat pants I was wearing in front of about a hundred people. Fortunately for me and all the onlookers, I was wearing my “fun” underwear. When I finally made it through security and to my I gate, I sent a few final texts and calls and they called for us to board the plane.  After a 7 hour flight in a seat made only for people under 5’8” with my knees wedged into the back of the passenger in front of me, I arrived in London at 6:30 am.  I had a 6 hour layover so I just wandered around, found something to eat and tried to stay awake for my connecting flight to Serbia.  After realizing I had been awake for a full 24 hours, they finally called for my final connecting flight to board. Despite my exhaustion and nerves, I was unable to sleep on the flight.

 
I finally arrived in Belgrade, Serbia where I was greeted by the head of sponsorship for our team and his friend.  We got into his car and made the THREE hour drive back to Bor, the hometown of my new team.  When we finally arrived at my new house, the exhaustion had really set in; there was a sandwich waiting for me from the “best restaurant in town” and I could not wait to scarf it down and collapse into bed.  Not a chance.  Instead, they told me to eat quickly and get changed for my first practice with my new team.  We travelled less than 5 minutes to practice and when I got out of the car, my new teammates seemed almost as starstruck as I was.  I could hear them saying things like “there he is” and “he’s finally here!” I honestly heard one of the younger guys from the junior team say, “ I want to get his signature,” in very broken English. I feel like Tom Brady on Monday night football. That is such a cliché thing to say, but it’s true.

I came in at the end of practice so I didn’t really get to do much; I just talked to a few guys on the team and continued to meet players. After practice, I met up with a few of the guys I had been talking to before arriving in Serbia.  They invited me out for a beer and even though I was physically and mentally drained from being up for 35 hours, I could not turn it down.  What would a few beers (and shots, and a few more beers) do?

At the bar, I quickly realized that the drinking age is only 18; with that said, not a single bar actually regulates this. The cops do not seem to care either as long you aren’t making a complete fool of yourself and/or raising hell in the streets. Kids on the junior team are out drinking with us too. Kids at 16 and 17 years old are doing shots and drinking beer along with the rest of the team, which was one of the craziest things I have ever seen. I liked the bar and the atmosphere except that patrons are allowed to smoke in Serbian bars and literally EVERYONE does.  It’s annoying and I can hardly breathe to drink a beer. I even left that bar with cigarette burns in one of my sweaters. Another major difference between this and American bars are the way people treat one another. In America when someone wants to walk by you, they have to awkwardly walk behind you and try their best not to bump into you. It’s the exact opposite in Serbia; they run right into you and keep walking.  Somehow it doesn’t even seem rude, just the best way to get past someone I guess.

This is the cheapest beer with the most alcohol content. It doesn’t really taste bad, it’s just not budlight.  The beer is 18oz and 7% alchohol for about $1. I can also buy a shot of wild turkey rare breed for $1. crazy I know.  In the states this would probably cost an easy $5-8. Everything is so cheap here: food, drinks, cars, just the lifestyle in general. It has been a crazy past few days but I wouldn’t change it for the world. Thank you to the people who keep showing me support. I enjoy waking up to text messages, snaps and tweets from all of you. Keep them coming!

Fishstrong!

Trever